Statistical Probability
by Scandalacious Intentions
Summary: "It has been said you will run into the love of your life five times before you actually meet them, learn their name and become a part of their life"


**Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing to do with me. J.K. owns the characters and the advertising people for "Six Degrees" own the premise.**

**A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into a piece of original fiction so let's see how it works out.**

"_It has been said you will run into the love of your life five times before you actually meet them, learn their name and become a part of their life."_

August 1991 - One Cupcake.

There was something comforting about Olivia's. In fact, thought Remus Lupin, stretching out his tired muscles, there were several comforting things about it. For one thing, it was lovely to have a pot of tea simply brought to you and taken away without you putting any effort into the process at all. For another, the sugary cupcakes baked there every day were deliciously light and full of sugar. They were also absurdly cheap which suited him nicely. Thirdly, the soft, battered sofa in the window was easy on his aching back. All in all, it was a very pleasing post full moon ritual.

The summer sun was still high in the sky though he was aware that he had slept most of the day away. It must have been early evening, at the very least, but the obliging middle aged lady behind the counter knew to expect him most days at six o'clock and kept a cake back for him.

Glancing at his watch, he gave a small start and picked up his pace. Ten past six. She'd probably have closed by now, but it was worth a shot. He'd already dragged himself out of bed, left the little cottage by the sea, walked along the cliff path and made it into the little seaside town. He thought that was strenuous enough after last night's transformation and sweet tea would be a very pleasant little reward.

The door was open and Olivia was still behind the counter. So far, so good.

"Sorry," he said, offering a weary smile. "Is it too late to beg you for some tea?"

Olivia beamed back at him, her rosy cheeks shining. "Not at all, flower."

She disappeared into the backroom and left him leaning on the counter, the picture of misery as he realised he was now just as alone as he had been in his bedroom. The only difference was that he was now in a tearoom watching happy families traipse back to their holiday cottages.

On the plus side, he thought, he was no longer lonely. Now he was envious and vaguely depressed.

But, after all, he was about to sit in his favourite armchair with a pot of sweet tea and a cupcake.

"Oh. It's still open. That's a bit of good luck."

Lupin turned his gaze to the door and did a spectacular double take at the sight of the young woman now approaching the counter.

She walked with a certain self assurance, her head held high and bearing a dazzling smile. Her hair was long with curls tumbling halfway down her chest. Her eyes were a charming silver, reminiscent of his incarcerated former best friend. She could have been a beauty, Lupin thought, if her hair had not been dyed an ostentatious electric blue.

"Hello."

Not in the mood for awkward and stilted conversation with a stranger, Lupin merely nodded in her direction.

"Lovely little place isn't it?"

This young woman was not to be deterred and despite himself, Lupin's shoulders slumped. He sighed softly. "Yes." He hoped she wasn't going to sit down.

"Are you on holiday too? I'm with friends."

Lupin frowned slightly. He was a lone man approaching middle age ordering tea for one in a Devonshire tearoom. What sort of holidays did this girl go on?

"No," he answered eventually. "I live here."

She nodded and fell into silence, eyeing up the chocolate and banana muffin Lupin had had his eye on since he walked in. He didn't know what possessed him. He wanted this silence. He enjoyed silence. It was comforting and familiar. Why then he felt the need to babble at her incessantly, was a mystery.

"Well, not _here_. In a house obviously. I live on the coast. In a cottage."

She smiled at him. "That sounds lovely."

Her smile was infectious. Even if her hair was ridiculously loud, she was pleasant enough.

"There you go, sweetie," said Olivia, placing the tea tray carefully on the counter. "Two pounds please, my lovely."

Lupin counted out the remainder of his change and wondered whether he could scrape together the seventy pence for a cake. Finally finding a twenty pence piece hiding amongst the folds of his pocket, he smiled triumphantly.

"Might I have the chocolate and banana muffin please?"

She took the words right out of his mouth and Lupin's face fell as he turned to look at her. How simply dare she barge in on his ritual just when he had found a little extra change? How dare she take the last cake? Couldn't she tell he was about to order it?

"Well," said Olivia, "I usually keep it back for this gentleman. He's a regular. I'm not really supposed to be open at this time."

Lupin managed a grim smile. "You have it."

"Are you sure? I can go somewhere else. I'm not sure what'll be open, but-"

"No, no. I insist."

The young woman beamed at him. "Cheers."

Though she had obviously turned on the charm, it was completely wasted on Lupin, who took his tray and sat in his usual seat before she could intrude on that too.

"That's seventy pence then, love."

"Thanks. Just…excuse me a second."

Lupin had only taken a sip of tea before she tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, "I need a little help."

He attempted a smile and gestured for her to continue.

She perched on the arm of the sofa and murmured, "I don't really understand this small change." She bit her full bottom lip and shrugged helplessly.

"I've got seventy pence."

She stopped him. "No, no, no. I think I have too. I'm just not entirely comfortable counting it. I'm um…I've lived abroad for a while and I'm not used to this."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. She was an appalling actress. "Muggle money, you mean?"

She started, her jaw dropping. "Well…yes. You seemed to know what you were doing." She turned back to the counter and threw another dazzling smile in Olivia's direction. "Sorry," she called. "I thought I recognised him and I thought I'd just pop over and see if I was right before he left."

Lupin subtly handed her seventy pence in change.

"Thanks," she whispered. "I'm hopeless. My Dad's wicked with it, but he's a Muggle born so…" She laughed nervously. "Thanks again anyway."

Lupin smiled stiffly. "A pleasure."

She sat, he was pleased to note, on the other side of the room. She took a table facing the window and grinned at people who looked in at her, their eyes caught by the electric shade of her hair.

She was eating it wrongly. She was merely biting into it. No, these cakes were to be savoured and adored. They were to be picked apart from the bottom upwards, leaving the creamy icing sticking to your fingers for you to surreptitiously attack with your tongue when no-one was looking. Or maybe, he thought, frowning to himself, he was the only thirty-one year old man to eat cakes like a six year old and it was none of his business how she chose to eat _his _cake.

His eyelids began to droop. He knocked back the last dregs of tea and reluctantly got to his feet.

"Well, have a nice holiday."

She looked up at him, surprised. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>January 1992 - Two Strangers<p>

Remus Lupin breathed deeply and smiled warmly. Flourish and Blotts never failed to produce this response. The smell of old books was a small guilty pleasure. He loved the silent serenity of this shop. Visiting it early in the morning meant he missed the rush-hour crowds and could wander at will, occasionally reading a paragraph or two, realising luxuries were not part of his budget, and taking a make-shift seat out of the way of the clientele until closing time when he was asked to leave.

Today, however, he was on a mission. He was putting a booklist together. His obvious pleasure radiated from him as he moved silently along the shelves, noting titles of interest in a small leather-bound notebook.

"Ouch! Oh no! No, don't…Oh!"

The almighty crash brought him too suddenly out of his reverie and Lupin blinked several times in quick succession.

The voice was almost familiar; deep but definitely female.

Lupin peered through a gap in the shelf and found the bobbing head of a tall and slim hazel haired beauty as she bent down to pick up a hefty number of books she had carelessly knocked over. He cleared his throat quietly and smiled shyly.

"Do you need a hand?"

She narrowed her eyes and took a step back, unsuspicious but aware that she knew this man and was unable to place him.

"If it's not too much trouble."

Lupin almost darted round the shelf until he stood beside her, rather suddenly conscious of the patches on his jacket. In the presence of a beautiful woman, they did not give him character, they brought him pity.

"Not at all."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm _so_ clumsy."

Clumsy, Lupin thought, was a word associated with children or ugly step-sisters. Clumsy was not a word he would have chosen to describe her. She was rather sweet and while perhaps not graceful, very charming.

"I'm trying to sort them back into order. I don't know what happened. They just sort of flew off the shelf and now they're everywhere," she said, holding out her palms in a gesture of helplessness. Her nails had been bitten to the quick and Lupin couldn't help but wince.

She glanced down at them and smiled grimly. "I'm starting Auror training. I've been a bit nervous."

"Understandable," said Lupin with a small smile, recalling Order training with Alastor Moody.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Moody tomorrow and I'm trying to do some last minute reading."

Lupin laughed guiltily. "Sorry. I just…I remember Moody. Best of luck."

Her honey coloured eyes widened. "Merlin. That bad?"

"Not _bad_, but he's rather _odd_."

"I can handle odd," she said, grinning at Lupin. "I'm rather odd myself."

Lupin, thinking she didn't look it, said nothing and knelt beside the small pile she had arranged haphazardly. The titles had nothing in common and the authors' names had not been taken into consideration whatsoever. Cornelia Robins before Alfred Peacock? Such carelessness for order was a deep personal grievance.

"Is it alphabetical order they're supposed to be in?" he asked, glancing up at the empty bookshelf and finding no clues.

"I should imagine so."

"Right. So we need three piles. We'll call them P, Q, and R. Then we'll find Pa, Qua, and Ra. That's the only way to do this properly. Did you want any of these books?"

She knelt beside him and ransacked his orderly pile of "R".

Lupin gritted his teeth and tried to smile.

"Got it!" Her voice seemed unnaturally loud in the largely empty shop. "Sorry."

Lupin rolled his eyes and flicked his wand in the direction of his ruined pile. The books slotted into their original places. "No harm done." His eyes widened. "Would you believe it?" he asked no-one in particular. He held up a slightly battered copy of "_Coping Without Destiny - What To Do When Madame Fate Gives You The Cold Shoulder_".

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you want that for?"

"My mother reads _everything _by Sparta Quaterman, It's bizarre because she's an intelligent woman. I have no idea why she reads it. I've been looking for this for weeks."

The beauty with the bitten nails only laughed. "Even _you_ need a bit of chaos every now and again then."

Lupin, who missed chaos but would sever a limb before he admitted it, smiled wryly. "Evidently. Good luck."

She smiled grimly back at him. "Thanks. I think I'll be needing it if I keep knocking things over."

"Oh, you'll be fine. If nothing else, they'll hire you as a distraction."

She rolled her eyes. "Cheers."

* * *

><p>December 1993 - The Three Broomsticks<p>

It was cold. Too cold. Lupin shivered and wished he did not look so ridiculous in a scarf and gloves. Coupled with a soft tone and a baby face, he was convinced that he looked like a very large lost child.

The snow gathered around his feet, dampening the hem of his robes. He shivered and took a seat on the cold stone bench overlooking the Shrieking Shack. His friends had always steered him well away from it on visits to Hogsmeade and he was unsure why he so desperately wanted to see it now. Last time he had sat here, he had been seventeen and attempting small talk with a stutter, trying not to frighten the beautiful brunette who sat beside him.

His teeth chattered with cold and though he knew there was Butterbeer and a roaring fire waiting for him in The Three Broomsticks, he couldn't bear to walk away now. It was a building that ought to hold a hellish grip of terror over him, but he vaguely remembered the shadows dancing on the walls - Padfoot racing around the room following the terrified shrieks of Wormtail.

Little Peter would be furious the following morning. Sirius merely laughed louder.

"What's so funny?"

The intruder was a tall and striking woman with strawberry blonde hair and honey eyes. Dressed in a long leather coat, she did not shiver as she strode through the snow.

Lupin, who had not realised he was laughing lightly to himself while bearing a small sad smile, cleared his throat nervously. "I…sorry…I was just…I was…thinking."

"Is anyone sitting there?"

Lupin resisted the sarcastic retort which sprang to mind as he realised the two of them must be the only people mad enough to be out in this weather staring at a haunted building.

He corrected himself. _She_ was mad. _He _was at a far more advanced stage. _He _had traipsed up the hill through six inches of snow to see a building he knew full well was as haunted as his garden shed.

"Would you like to sit down?"

She titled her head. "You're not leaving, are you? Please don't let me intrude."

Lupin rubbed his gloved hands together and winced as a sudden breeze chilled him to the core. "I think I might try and dry off somewhere."

"Are you going to The Three Broomsticks?"

Lupin coughed lightly, very nervous now that an attractive woman was showing interest in his whereabouts. "Probably."

She ran a hand bearing bitten nails through her cropped hair and grinned. "Maybe I'll see you later."

Lupin's laugh was breathy. "Yes. Perhaps."

"Lovely building, isn't it?"

Lupin hummed dubiously. "It's a building with a lovely history, but I wouldn't say lovely in itself."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Lovely history? I thought it was ghosts."

Lupin took a deep breath and wetted his dry, chapped lips. "Well, yes. It's lovely in the sense that it's dramatic and a rather fantastic notion, don't you think?"

She laughed. "I suppose so." Her eyes narrowed slightly and she regarded him with a shrewd and critical eye. "You're really a rather interesting bloke."

Lupin's eyes widened. Taken aback, he stammered, "Who? M-me?"

"No. The Minister of Magic. Of course you." Her eyes twinkled with mirth. "You'll probably think me unforgivably rude but I was wondering if I might intrude further on your afternoon? You see, I'm rather interested in your dramatic and fantastic notions."

"Oh. I…yes. Yes, of course. Though I'd prefer it if you might be interested in my dramatic and fantastic notions somewhere a little warmer."

She laughed and got to her feet. "Well, you said you were heading for The Three Broomsticks anyway so…" She trailed off, her high arched brows raised.

Lupin winced. "Well, yes. Yes, I did. Though er…that was before I thought my students might see me in the company of a beautiful woman."

Her smile widened. "Students?"

"I teach at Hogwarts."

"I see. You can tell me all about it at The Three Broomsticks. I could turn myself into a hag with barely any effort if you'd prefer."

Lupin felt the heat as the colour rose in his cheeks. "No, I think a beautiful woman would be bearable."

Having selected a booth in a darkened corner of the warm and homely little pub and almost wishing they were sitting in The Hog's Head where no questions were asked, Lupin sipped slowly at his Butterbeer.

"You sound a lot more fun than any of the teachers I ever had."

Lupin frowned. "I'm not sure I should have told you that story about the Boggart. I promised I'd stop using it as an anecdote, but it's the funniest one I have. Catch twenty-two."

Her eyes twinkled in the darkness and her laugh, though deep and heavy was endearingly contagious.

"I'm sorry that I can't stay longer," she said, draining her foaming tankard. "Thank you. I had a lovely afternoon; much more interesting than staring at a dilapidated shack on my own all day." She laid two sickles on the table and said, "Oh and I start work in the Auror office in the new year. I'm not a diversionary tactic either." She poked her tongue out at him and disappeared into the crowd of students piling in to dry off in front of the roaring fire.

Thoroughly confused, Lupin contemplated ordering another Butterbeer, but instead chose to return to his office and have a nice cup of tea before this day could get any stranger.

* * *

><p>November 1994 - Foregone Conclusion<p>

It was over in a matter of seconds.

People would insist in going out in the most inappropriate footwear, thought Lupin, watching the young woman flail blindly as she slipped on the cliff path, her head almost bouncing as it hit the rickety wooden fence. He sighed deeply, thinking her lucky not to have careered through it and onto the rocks sixty feet below, as he rose from his seat in the attic and reached for _sensible_ shoes.

Her mousy brown curls clung sodden to her heart-shaped face and as Lupin turned the corner, still rolling his eyes, she smiled weakly with relief.

"Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath and murmured, "Yes. Thank you."

"I saw you fall. It looked pretty painful. Can you stand?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Lupin nodded slowly and caught hold of her arm. Slinging it about his shoulders and thinking he was far too physically drained to even attempt such a feat, he pulled her up.

"Come on. I can't let you walk it off after a bump like that. You might have delayed shock."

She sneezed violently and promptly, without any prior warning, burst into tears.

Lupin took a step back and raised his eyebrows. He frantically searched for someone else who might handle this situation better. Women, especially those in tears, had always been a source of confusion and a great deal of pain.

Being a rainy November afternoon, sensible people were sitting at home looking out of the window and wondering why anyone in their right mind might be found on the cliff path.

"It's not been my fucking day," she whispered to herself, throwing her tears away as though they burned her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said, turning to Lupin. "You shouldn't have had to see that."

Her voice cracked and Lupin took the opportunity to slowly lead her up the path and onto safer ground.

"Oh, it's quite all right," he assured her. "I have those days too. I call them weekdays."

She laughed politely. "Really, I'm okay."

"I'd rather be sure."

His tone was soft but firm and she complied, reluctantly following him along a garden path leading to a four-floor cottage with periwinkles trailing up the pale stone walls. The garden, though largely barren, was divided between a vegetable patch, a small orchard, a chicken coop and a seating area overlooking the steel grey waves as they crashed against the cliffs. A small piece of slate hanging beside the scarlet painted door, bore the words 'Sleepy Cottage'.

"Come in," said Lupin, holding the door and ushering her into a warm and spacious kitchen. "Have a seat."

Christmas lights were already hanging over the pale blue AGA on which the kettle whistled.

She pulled out a chair from the old oak table in the centre of the room and jumped back in surprise as with a disgruntled hiss, an ancient black cat made its presence known to her.

Lupin clicked his tongue. "Get lost. She's not even _mine_. I'll make you some sweet tea. Apparently, it's the best thing for shock."

She chose a second chair as the cat was evidently not prepared to relinquish its position.

"So what er…what brings you here in the middle of November then?"

She accepted the mug of steaming sweet tea and stared deep into it as though the answer to this question lay at the bottom of the mug.

"I was dumped," she said quietly. "He used to bring me here."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "So you thought you'd put yourself in a ridiculous amount of danger walking along a narrow path in the pouring rain? Good idea."

She glared at him.

"Look," he said softly, "I know what it's like and believe me, dying is _not_ going to show the bastard what he's missing."

Her glare became a small smile. "I don't know why I did it. I don't think I realised how bad it was down there." She sniffed and took a sip of tea.

Lupin returned the gesture. "I'll get you a towel for your hair. Has your head started to hurt?"

She nodded and immediately regretted her action.

"Yes, don't nod if you can help it." Lupin reached into a cupboard and pulled out a half-eaten bar of milk chocolate. He broke off a large block and handed it to the young woman sniffling at his table. "I have yet to meet a person for whom chocolate is not a source of relief. Trust me, it helps." He rocked slightly on his heels and said, "Oh yes, towel."

"Why are we pretending that I don't know full well what you are?"

Lupin's charcoal black eyes widened and like a startled deer, his eyes shot from right to left to her shining silver gaze.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're a wizard."

Lupin laughed with relief. "Oh. _Oh. _Yes. Yes, of course." He frowned slightly. "Really? How long have you known?"

"Years," she replied. "You probably don't remember me. I'm the girl who had to ask you for help with Muggle change. I'm also the girl who helped you find that trashy book in Flourish and Blotts. We met last year in Hogsmeade. Oh and your wand has been sticking out of your pocket the entire time."

Lupin smiled grimly. "Touché. You change your hair a lot."

"I get bored," she admitted. "Besides, what's the point of being a Metamorphagus if you never use it?"

She lifted her wand and flicked it at her head. Her hair remained damp.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

Lupin sat opposite her. "You're halfway there. You just went at it a little quickly. Try it again. A little slower this time." He winced. "I'm sorry. I think it's my inner teacher. I hope you didn't think I was patronising you. I didn't mean for it to sound-"

She laughed lightly. "It's all right." She repeated the motion and her hair, though still lank, was at least dry. "Thank you." She drained her mug and smiled weakly. "I should probably get going. Really, I feel fine. Thanks for everything. You've been so good to me and I've probably hugely inconvenienced you."

Lupin, who wholly agreed, shook his head. "I was glad of the distraction. It's been a very long day."

"Well, I'd best be on my way. We'll probably see each other again."

Lupin laughed. "I'd say that was a foregone conclusion."

* * *

><p>July 1995 - Five Streets Away<p>

"Excuse me?"

He wished when Sirius had returned to his family home that he had taken him with him. It was all very well to say it wasn't fit to be seen by civilised people but now he was hopelessly lost in the middle of Islington without any means of contacting him.

The young woman sporting purple hair was the only other human being he had seen all evening, which he had believed impossible for Islington on a Saturday night. Lupin was therefore forced to ask her for directions.

"Yes?" She seemed polite enough regardless of her anti-establishment badges decorating the lapels of her jacket.

"I'm looking for Grimmauld Place. Do you know where that is?"

She frowned. "Grimmauld Place? What on earth would you be wanting in Grimmauld Place?"

Wishing he could tell her to mind her own business, Lupin replied, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone."

"Oh I see. Well, you're about five streets away. It's not far. Do you want me to take you."

_No_. "If you would."

It had been years since Lupin has trailed through these streets, wondering just where exactly Sirius lived having told the driver of the Knight Bus 'Islington'. They hadn't changed much. The cobbles were still slippery and almost painful under foot. The streetlights had been modernised, but they still didn't work.

"Are you going out then?" she asked. "It seems a strange place to meet someone. It's quite a way away from town."

"No."

The silence engulfed them and, obviously more comfortable with an awkward silence than Lupin, she said brightly, "My head's got better."

He smiled. "You _again_?"

She grinned back. "Stop following me. I'm going to need a bodyguard if this keeps up." She hummed reflectively. "I used to have family who lived there."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "What a coincidence. When I was a teenager, one of my best friends lived there too."

"Oh. Is that who you're meeting?"

Lupin marveled at her blatant curiosity. "Well, yes."

"Well," she said, turning onto a long dark street of Georgian houses, "here we are."

Lupin counted the houses as far as Number 11 and smiled softly. "Thank you. Much appreciated."

She smiled back at him. "Happy to help. It makes a nice change. Anyway, I must get going. I'm supposed to be meeting a friend too. Remind me next time to ask for your name."

Before he could inform her of it, she had dashed around the corner, throwing him a last minute wave.

Lupin strolled up to the space between numbers 11 and 13 and wondered whether or not to tell Sirius about her. He decided it was best not to. Though these were indeed strange circumstances, he would only be laughed at. Besides, if _he_ didn't know her, having spent twelve years in Azkaban, it was highly doubtful that Sirius would be able to offer any clues either. Besides, he told himself, closing the door of the new Order of the Phoenix Headquarters behind him, he wasn't sure that he _wanted _to know her.

* * *

><p>August 1995.<p>

"Remus, this is my cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. Dora, this is my best friend, Remus Lupin." He grinned. "I'd say that's probably the best introduction I've ever given. I even remembered your names."

Lupin blinked and took a step back.

"_You_?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Oh do you know each other then?"

Nymphadora Tonks laughed. "Yeah. You could say that." She held out her hand. "Nice to finally put a name to the face."


End file.
